


No Need for Fairies

by zoi_no_miko



Category: Hook (1991)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/zoi_no_miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Left to die, the last person James Hook expected to see was Peter Pan. (end of movie)</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Need for Fairies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reserve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/gifts).



Captain Hook had never caught Peter Pan. If he had, he wouldn't have needed fairy dust to fly. But it wasn't in the way the men would have expected, the brutes that ran his ship who only cared about drink and whores and killing. No, he'd always had much more complex plans for Peter than simply skewering the boy with his sword.

Well... unless you really wanted to be completely uncooth about it.

Peter Pan had been absolutely maddening, the elfin boy who refused to grow up. Hook's nemesis, eternally innocent and yet brazenly wicked, teasing and taunting him with every word, every gesture. They went on for years - their grand battles where Pan would flit about him, just out of reach - flounce him, humiliate him, and then run off victorious. Or sometimes he would let Hook believe that he had the upper hand, let himself get driven back until he was almost - almost! - in Hook's hands, only to turn the tables and soar through the air again, as deft as ever. Hook often thought that he would surely go mad if the boy didn't stop the damnably tantalizing behaviour.

But then it did stop. Peter Pan went away. Peter Pan never came back, and Hook learned the true meaning of madness.

Kidnapping Peter's children to lure him back to Neverland has been the cumulation of years of careful planning. He'd needed something to focus on, to keep him from insanity without Peter there. Revenge, he told himself. Revenge, and a great war, though all he really wanted was for Peter to return to Neverland. But once more, his plan had failed. And now... now Peter was leaving again, and Hook was dying, enveloped in the darkness of the Crocodile's stomach. It had all happened so fast - that disorienting, horrible ticking, then a woosh of darkness and teeth, raking at his hair and clothes, scraping his skin and tearing a gash of red hot agony in his side. Hook clutched his hand to the wound, even knowing was futile. The only thing left for him was to wait for death inside the cursed beast.

What he didn't expect was the sudden streak of light in the darkness - sunlight, he realized. A slit in the side of the crocodile, slowly being made larger by a knife. Then fingers appeared, pushed in on either side of the slit, slowly yanking, ripping, tearing, until the hole was big enough that he could see the head and shoulders of the person on the other side.

Peter Pan. Banning. His Pan.

The man-child regarded him for a moment, a heaviness in his form that was less the boy Hook had known, and more the man that he'd become. "You look pretty bad, Hook."

"I'm dying," he managed to growl, and Pan nodded seriously.

"I didn't want this to happen," he said with a soft sigh, tearing the hole in the crocodile larger. "I just wanted my kids back. And for the Lost Boys to be safe. But I should have known you'd fight until the very end. It's who you are. Come on... lets get you out of there."

Hook tried to move without pulling his hand from the slash in his side, and heard a shuddering, keening noise that he realized was coming from his own throat. Pan sighed again, and crawled into the crocodile's stomach, manoeuvring to pull Hook's other arm around his neck, the steel hook flopping against his chest. He could slit the damn boy - the man's throat, if he had the strength, if every inch of him wasn't focused on the red hot pain in his side, on keeping his fingers clamped firmly to it. That was all he could think of as Pan pulled him out of the crocodile, cradled in his arms like just another lost boy. Pain, and vague disgust that he'd been reduced to this.

Pan was uncontested by the pirates as he carried him back across the gangplank onto the ship, taking him into his cabin, and laying him down on the bed. "I remember now when you came to Neverland," Peter told him quietly, starting to unbutton the fine pearl buttons on his shirt, and the more he spoke, the more the childish aspect left him. "I can remember things much better than when I was a child. The days all blurred together then, like they'd never end. Maybe that's why I started leaving Neverland, because part of me wanted - needed something different. I think that's why I let the pirates come, too. I needed you so that I would have a purpose, same as you needed me. That's why you brought me back here, wasn't it?"

He couldn't understand what Pan was doing here, let alone what he was talking about, and where was Smee? Why was Peter even bothering to try to tend to him when his own man had deserted him? His hand was tugged away from the wound insistently, and the pain intensified as Peter tried to pull him up to remove the shirt and jacket. He realized he'd yelled, and Peter stopped immediately, laying him back with the same strength and gentleness. The same knife that cut him out of the crocodile slipped through the rich velvet and fine silk, fabric cut and pulled aside until the wound was bared. He felt a cool, wet cloth against his skin, and he let himself float in the daze between pain and the strangely pleasurable sensation of the cloth on his skin, pushing away the conflicting knowledge that his mortal enemy was carefully dressing his wounds.

"It seems that Hook may indeed live to fight another day," Peter was saying, his voice soft and low and almost melodic, fingers brushing against skin made sensitive from the pain of his wounds. "But the pirates will be leaving Neverland, and you won't be able to return. I will not keep you prisoner any longer in a world where you don't belong. You can do with your life what you will, and live your own story instead of mine."

Hook struggled to look up at him, vision unfocused through the disorientation of pain, and it was almost as if the boy Pan stood over him again, with his wild hair and teasing smirk. But this face held only concern and sadness. Was that concern really for him? "Why are you... doing this?"

Peter gave a small smile, reaching up to smooth down a stray black tendril of his wig, fingertips brushing feather light against his temple. "I'd all but destroyed myself, before this happened. I'd forgotten Neverland, forgotten what was really important to me. You gave that back to me, and whether or not it was your intention, that gift still deserves my gratitude."

"Don't be ridiculous," he muttered, only to be graced with a real smile.

"It's not too late for you, you know. Even now. You can still find happiness, the right way. I hope you'll consider it."

Hook closed his eyes against the ridiculous thought. It was easier than trying to argue with the damn boy, though part of him knew he'd curse himself later for conceding so easily. But it seemed that Peter wasn't finished.

"If you ever decide to really live," Peter started, then hesitated. "If you ever want to come back... I believe you know how to contact me. As for how to get there... well."

For a moment, there was silence, and Hook almost began to believe that the boy had finally left. But then strong hands touched his shoulders lightly, slowly sliding up bare skin to finally cup his cheeks. There was a soft whisper of breath against his face, and then finally - finally! - a pair of warm, firm lips pressed gently to his own.

It wasn't the sweet, tentative kiss of a curious boy, nor the hard, passionate kiss of a lover, but somehow it was more perfect than Hook had ever thought it could be. That brief, warm caress of Peter's lips against his was gentle and caring, and perhaps, perhaps just a little promising. It was enough to send a rush of warmth through him so that every nerve in his body shivered and sang, making him wonder for a brief moment if the damn fairy was here. But no, this was just Peter, grown up and yet young again, and more perfect than ever.

In a brief, bright moment of eternity the kiss was spent, but the warmth inside him remained. Hook looked up at the man as he pulled back, hands leaving his face, and Peter smiled softly, seeming to be entirely at peace.

"I hope that will negate the need for fairy dust, should you ever want to find me." Peter said as he straightened, then turned for the cabin door, knowing Hook would give him no response. Still, he paused at the doorway for a moment and looked back, leaving a few words behind before vanishing out of his world once again. "Take care, James."

Hook was defeated, weak and injured. His fine clothes were torn to shreds and his formerly magnificent wig likely resembled a tentacled sea creature more than hair. But for the first time in many, many years, James Hook began to feel young again.

~~~finish~~~


End file.
